


Haddie's Haunting

by FunPlotBunnies (EroticFantasies)



Category: Supernatural, The Office (US)
Genre: Comedy, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, DONT TAKE THIS TOO SERIOUSLY, Multi, Murder, Murder Mystery, Silly, Writing is fun, dunder mifflin, dwights ghost story, ghost - Freeform, ghost story, haddie mcgonagall, ridiculous crossover, the office and supernatural, the office s5e23
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2019-10-01 12:28:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17244209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EroticFantasies/pseuds/FunPlotBunnies
Summary: An office building in Scranton, PA is being terrorized by a ghost. Amid the flickering lights and leaky faucets, bodies are discovered. After one woman was miraculously rescued from a flooding bathroom by a coworker, Sam and Dean investigate. This is not a typical job for the Winchester brothers.





	1. Chapter 1

Sam Winchester swiped today’s newspaper from the rack and followed his brother to a corner booth. Before he even sat down, he was scanning over the pages. It had been almost a whole week without a job, and while that was certainly good news for everyone else, for a hunter, it could mean something big was brewing.

Plus, they were running out of money.

While Sam was checking the paper, Dean was checking out a waitress across the diner. She was laughing it up with an elderly couple, the yellow skirt of her uniform swayed around her long legs. Dean smirked as she leaned slightly over the table to fill a coffee mug.

“Listen: The body of an unidentified man was discovered this morning in the elevator at the Business Park. This is the third murder in that building from this week alone and investigators are making slow progress. Meanwhile, the workers are terrified to return to their jobs and claim that strange things have been happening in their day-to-day operations.”

That last sentence was enough to demand Dean’s attention.

“What sort of strange things?”

“Flickering lights, power surges.” Sam’s brow furrowed as he scanned further down the article. “Kelley Kapoor, an employee in the building, claims to have been locked in the bathroom. One of her co-workers had to go into the ventilation system to get her out.”

“Why didn’t they just call a locksmith?” Dean asked.

“Good morning, gentlemen.” The pretty waitress in the flouncy yellow skirt bounced before them.

“Hey.” Dean smirked at her.

“Can I start you off with some coffee? Tea? Juice?” Her smile was directed at Sam, as blinding as the highbeams of a pickup truck plowing down a highway in the middle of the night.

Sam politely acknowledged her. “Just coffee, thanks.”

“You got it, sugar.”

Dean could have kicked Sam for brushing her off like that.

“Burger and fries.” He ordered, grinning like a kid in a candy store when she turned to him. She collected their menus and sauntered away.

“What’s wrong with you?” Dean asked.

Sam gave his brother a pointed, irritated sigh. He set the paper down between them, eager to move on, and pointed to a quoted section:

“‘At first, I just thought maybe like Jim was playing a prank on me […] but then the lights all went out. I shouted, ‘Okay guys cut it out this isn’t funny,’ but then, I swear, all of the toilets started flushing […] and there was this crazy lady in the mirror […] I was just screaming and screaming. I thought I was going to die! There was water all over the floor […] and the sinks were all on […] I could hear everyone on the other side of the door banging and Michael was trying to kick down the door […] I locked myself in a stall and the next thing I know, Dwight falls from the ceiling […] and we have to climb up over the stalls and out through the ceiling!’ - Kelley Kapoor, survivor.”

“Chatterbox, that one.” Dean commented.

The waitress swung by with a full, fresh pot of coffee and filled up Sam’s mug.

“Kelly,” Dean read the name on her tag. “We were just reading about you in the paper.”

“Oh? What did I do? Nothing bad, I hope.” she asked, and tilted her head to read. Her smile dropped into a confused frown.

“Won an award, actually.” Dean said. “On page five.”

“You know what, actually, I think I will have some eggs.” Sam chimed in.

“How’d you like those cooked?” she jumped on the opportunity.

“Scrambled, please. Just two.”

She walked away scribbling on her pad. After a few paces she shook her head back and forth to herself.

“What’s wrong with you?” Sam asked.

 

* * *

 

“We can’t be expected to keep working here!” Pam Beesley tried to keep herself from shouting at the officer. Jim Halpert stood next to her, equally concerned about having to continue day to day operations as though three bodies hadn’t been found this week. He was just glad to not be the person to discover them.

“Ma’am, it’s best to keep going about your business like normal.” The officer said. His thumbs were looped into his belt. A crumb from a powdered donut clung to the corner of his mouth. “We’re going to catch this monster, but we can’t do it if he knows we’re onto him. So you need to just keep going on like everything’s fine.”

“That makes sense.” Jim kicked an asphalt chunk by his shoe.

The trio stood just outside the main entrance of the Scranton Business Park establishment. Winter was just around the corner. Just before the first body had been discovered, Jim and Pam were discussing taking a Christmas vacation down south, maybe Puerto Rico, but corporate personally rejected their request. Corporate had, in fact, rejected all requests for time off or even to move everyone to a temporary workspace.

Pam licked her lips and stepped closer to the officer, ready with a new approach.

“It’s the Scranton Strangler, isn’t it?” she asked very seriously.

The officer wordlessly opened the door to the lobby. “We’ve got everything under control, ma’am.” He insisted.

Inside, they could see the elevator had been taped off with a yellow X, and orange traffic cones set a perimeter around it. That’s where the body had been found.

“We’re putting officers outside undercover, we’ll be monitoring everyone who comes and leaves. You’re in good hands. Trust us, ma’am, it’s our job.”

Jim Halpert guided Pam into the building, away from the earshot of the officer. Hank had been pacing the lobby, he stopped and stared at them hard through suspicious eyes.

“Do we really need to be here?” Pam whispered to Jim. “I mean, I like this job and everything but not if it means I’m going to get murdered.”

“You won’t get murdered.” Jim said, and gave her that convincing, reassuring smile. She wanted to believe him, but was having trouble.

“You don’t know that, remember what happened to Kelley?”

“She was fine.” He followed her up the staircase. “Besides, Dwight will keep us all safe.”

“Halt!” Right on queue, Dwight Schrute stopped them before they reached the second landing. “I’m going to need to see your IDs and I will also need verbal confirmation of your names, go.”

“I am Sam Shabam and this is my lovely wife, Deborah.” Jim was all too happy for a new opportunity to mess with Dwight, given the grim circumstances.

Pam beamed up at him, aglow that he’d make a joke about her being his wife.

Dwight was unamused. He held out his hand. “I know that is not your name. Or yours.”

Sam Shabam nodded once. “It is actually, and I can prove it.” He reached into his pocket and Dwight flailed into a defensive position. By the time Sam Shabam pulled out the wallet, Dwight’s hand was already latched around a canister of bear mace he had kept in his own back pocket. He let it go when he saw the confirmation himself that the only items in Sam Shabam’s hand were, in fact, two ID cards.

Dwight’s mouth hung open. It was a picture of the man he knew as Jim Halpert, but with the name Sam Shabam next to it. The other information on the card was accurate, except for his height, obviously.

“This is fake.” Dwight guessed.

“It’s not, actually.” Jim leaned in close and lowered his voice. “We actually work for the FBI. Undercover. Why else do you think we came in today?”

Dwight glanced at Deborah Shabam, who nodded. She appeared to be very concerned. It seemed unlikely to be true, but, that could also just mean they two were very good at their jobs. He was good at his job, too. All of them: beet farmer, salesman, personal body guard…

“Do you think your cover’s been blown?” Dwight asked Sam Shabam.

“It is possible.” He nodded solemnly. “I’m sure you’re spread thin between everyone else here, so we understand completely if you can’t keep us-”

“Of course I can keep you safe!” Dwight insisted, and then stood up straight. He returned the ID cards to Sam Shabam and placed his hand on the door handle. “I’ve confirmed myself that the office is secure. Stay within my range of sight at all times after I come in for the day. Oh, also, given yesterday’s events, I’ve removed the doors from the bathroom.”

But before Jim and Pam could ask for more clarification, Dwight had ushered them into the office and closed the door behind them.

 

“I got Creed to make us those after the first murder.” Jim later confessed.

 

“Told you we’d be safe.” Jim said to Pam.

The office was empty.

“Where is everyone?” Pam asked, but as soon as the words left her mouth she noticed the door to the conference room was closed. The blinds were drawn and a rumble of disheveled employees was growing from inside.

 

* * *

 

Across the street from the Scranton Business Park, Sam and Dean Winchester had settled into a motel room. They wanted to go right in and finish up the job quick, but before they left the diner, Sam had discovered something very fortunate for their research.

“There’s videos of this all over the Internet. Apparently one of the companies in the building is being documented in a reality show. The company released the footage to comply with law enforcement.” Sam downloaded all of the videos he could find onto his laptop before they left for Scranton, just in case they’d get removed.

Now that they were safely out of the public eye, they could review the footage and get back to work.

“Beer?” Dean asked, crouched in front of a minifridge.

“It’s ten in the morning.” Sam said.

“Five o’clock somewhere.” Dean grabbed a bottle and made his way to the table. He pulled out a chair and sat on its arm. “Just play it.”

With a sharp click, the video opened with a man behind a desk. His hands were folded in front of him as he stared directly into the camera.

“There has been a murda.” His voice twisted in a semi-southern accent at the end. He broke his position to shake his head and scowl. “No, this is not a game. Let me start over.” He collected himself again, now leaning back in his chair, relaxed. He took a deep breath, cleared his throat, looked at the camera again and spoke:

“Why do we care about the fact that someone has died? It is because-”

The man was cut off by flickering lights.

“Oh god!” He wailed and launched to his feet. He bolted past the camera. A door opened, and in came a flood of yelling and screaming. Employees were crowded around the kitchen and a tall man in glasses was attempting to calm everyone down.

The brothers saw it at the same time. It had only been on the screen for a fraction of a second, when they could see the vent above the refrigerator. A black drop had oozed from the vent and trickled down the wall several inches. A second drop appeared to be ready to fall out between the metal slats, but the quality wasn’t clear enough to tell for sure.

“That’s a lot of ectoplasm.” Sam said.

“Or these people have a mold problem.”

The video continued, the tall man in glasses shoved everything off the kitchen table, climbed on top of it and punched out a ceiling tile.

Everyone started yelling at him, “Dwight, come on!” and “what are you doings” and one man with short black hair helped hoist him up into the ceiling, and then tried to come up after him.

“No! It’s too dangerous!” Dwight yelled at him. “There’s a screwdriver in my desk, go remove the door handle!”

A red haired woman ran out the door. As Dwight disappeared into the ceiling, the man stared up at the gaping hole and ran his fingers through his hair.

“I can’t take this.” He shook his head. “Kelley is dead, I know it, she’s going to be the next one.”

The room erupted with more yelling and screaming.

“Aren’t there supposed to be emergency procedures?” Sam wondered aloud.

“What’s the emergency procedure for a mass murdering ghost?” Dean asked, rising to his feet. Sam wondered that if everyone did know about the things that go bump in the night, maybe there could be emergency procedures for dealing with situations like this, but he dared not say it to Dean.

“Not whatever this is.” Sam said. The door flew off its hinges and the man named Dwight emerged from the bathroom carrying a disheveled Indian woman in both arms.

The camera focused on the pointed face of a blond woman. She beamed with pride and began clapping, and the instant she saw the camera looking at her, she dropped it to a polite smile.

Dean had already started gathering the shot guns and rock salt bullets. A duffle bag was opened up on his bed as he admired the contents within.

“Have you found anything else?”

“Local murderer at large, the Scranton Strangler.”

“Why do they always name them like that?” Dean asked.

“Like what? Alliteration?”

“With the same first letter.”

Sam nodded. “Alliteration. Who knows. Yellow journalism, sensationalism...”

Dean’s lips pursed in disapproval. “Well, if I hadn’t seen the mess of plasm there, I might believe it was that guy.”

Ghosts and monsters were easy, and Dean preferred to stick with that. Humans were complicated, too many attachments and feelings and even though he knew right from wrong, many other people didn’t. If this job turned out to be this Scranton Strangler, the employees of the Scranton Business Park were on their own.

Sam had sat back down at his computer and went to clicking and typing away, searching for more information.

“It’s not the Strangler.” Sam said. He had an article pulled up that covered that exact topic. “The bodies were beaten. Check this out.” He pulled up autopsy photos of one of the victims. A blue sheet lay over his face. His pale skin was speckled with streaks of red cuts and a grotesque rainbow of bruises. “They don’t know what kind of item he was beaten with.”

“Anything else?” Dean asked.

“There’s more security footage I swiped the cops, but I’m thinking our best bet is to go talk to these people ourselves.” Sam suggested.

Dean shook his head. “Three murders in a week and a documentary program is going to have that place swarming with feds. That’s a mean son of a bitch in there, we should go in tonight, get the job done and get the hell outta dodge.” The drive his point home, he began loading his gun.

It was Sam’s turn to jump to his feet. “Someone else could die in there today.” He said, the anger was beginning to boil and despite all his efforts to keep himself from flying off the handle, his voice trembled with rage. “If we’re there when it happens we can do something. If we wait, that’s more cops, more bodies, and the ghost gets stronger.”

Dean understood his brother’s point. He tilted his head and looked back at the video on Sam’s laptop, which had reverted back to the title tile: the man behind the desk. The name plate read “Michael Scott.” His eyebrows were halfway up his forehead, stretching his eyes wide open as he was regarding the camera with protruding lips, mid-sentence.

Something about that man bothered Dean. He looked back at Sam.

“Fine. But you deal with that guy.”


	2. Chapter 2

Inside the conference room, everyone was gathered around the table. Only about half of them were paying attention to Michael.

“First order of business today is that, what we need is to establish a buddy system.” Michael spun on a heel and scribbled the topic of the meeting on the white board propped up behind him. “Who wants to volunteer first, just shout it out.”

“I’ll be Stanley’s buddy.” Philis said.

“Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh no, Philis it has to be a woman. Can’t take Stanley to the bathroom with you.”

“We can’t even use the bathroom.” Stanley muttered without taking his eyes off his crossword puzzle.

“So I will put you with Angela.” Michael wrote their names on the board and drew a line connecting them. Angela rolled her eyes when Philis smiled at her.

“There’s an odd number of men here, Michael it’s not -” Toby began, but Michael cut him off by pointing to each man in the room and saying their names aloud.

“One, Oscar! Two, Kevin! Three -”

“Why wouldn’t you just count?”

“Four! Five! Six! Seven! Eight...”

Jim walked in the door with Pam hesitantly behind him.

“Jim makes nine, Dwight makes ten… see, now I don’t know where I left off.”

“Me,” Ryan raised his hand.

This confirmed that Toby was right, and the number of men in the office was, in fact, eleven.

“Well since corporate is the one making us stay, and you work for corporate, you’re excluded from the protection of the buddy system.” Michael offered.

Everyone piped up in protest.

“Alright, alright, alright FINE! We’ll do two groups of three, then.”

“Why two?” Jim asked.

“Because it’s a buddy system.”

“I’ll buddy with Jim.” Pam piped up.

“No, Pam, we already went over this, same-sex only. Don’t want you sneaking off for some afternoon delight and then getting murdered. No, I’ll put you with...”

“Me and Erin!” Kelly blurted out.

“That puts Pam together with Meredith. That’s what she-” Michael shook his head, as if stopping his voice would stop the mental image. It did not.

Kelly kept her eyes fixed on the back of Michael’s head as Pam gave her a curious glance.

“Now the men!”

“Well, since you’re done with us, can we get back to work?” Angela asked.

“No, it is important we all know who each other’s buddies are in case.”

Jim pointed to the board behind Michael where he had been writing down their pairings. “Isn’t that why you’re writing it down?”

Michael stared at the board, but couldn’t come up with an answer fast enough to give before they were all up and heading for the door.

“Shouldn’t we get Dwight for this?” Jim asked.

Michael waved his hand at Jim, already eager to move on. “So, what’d we say? Two groups of three?”

Pam didn’t hear anything else after the door closed behind her. She had nearly run into Philis, who for some reason had just stopped walking.

“Sorry!” Pam said reflectively and looked up to immediately realize why Phylis had stopped walking.

Two men being lead by Dwight were walking towards the kitchen. Even in plumber uniforms, they were the hottest guys to walk into the office since Danny Cordray. Angela Martin was the first to collect herself and hurry to her seat.

“Now, if you go on right through here you will find the bathrooms on the right hand side.” Dwight said as he opened the kitchen door and they all disappeared inside.

“Oh. My. God! Those are the plumbers?” Kelly whisper-yelled to Erin.

“I hear plumbers make a lot of money.” Erin whispered back. Kelly grabbed Erin’s shoulder. “Come to my desk with me.”

“Absolutely I will.” Erin said.

* * *

 

“I received no notification about plumbers coming to investigate.” Dwight Schrute looked up from the clipboard. He made sure to look both of the plumbers, asserting his authority.“I will have to call corporate and confirm your intentions.”

The Winchesters both opened their mouths to, but Sam took the lead. “We’re not from your corporate office, actually... we were hired by the insurance company that covers your business.” Sam clarified.

Dwight’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What is the name of that company?”

“Look, we can see you’re very concerned about your co-workers but come on, man, we’ve got a job to do.” Dean said.

“So do I. Many jobs, in fact.” Dwight straightened his back, preparing to attack. “The most important job to me right now is protecting my coworkers.”

The brothers sighed and shared a glance. Dean shrugged, “Just give me your name so we can pass it off to the big man.”

“Big man?”

“Our boss.” Sam nodded. “So he knows we aren’t the reason this job didn’t get done.”

“Oh, of course. Dwight Schrute.” Dwight stood down and made a mark on his clipboard.

“Exactly!” Sam said. “So let us go check your pipes and figure out what’s going on.”

Dean pulled out his cell phone and dialed some numbers.

“Hey, bossman. Yep. Broken bathroom in the Scranton office building. This uh,-” Dean smirked as he pointed “Dwight Snoot doesn’t want to let us in. Yes, sir.” Dean held the phone out to Dwight. “He wants to talk to you.”

Dwight stared the phone down before snatching it.

“Yes, Hello this is-”

“I don’t care who you think you are. If my guys don’t get in there and fix your damn pipes today, it’s not going to get done for the next six months and I’ll be calling your CEO to tell them who was responsible for this delay.” A gruff, authoritative voice nearly yelled into the receiver.

Dwight swallowed his pride and nodded. “Of course.” He said. “I understand.”

“Good.” the man seemed to lower the phone from his face and right before it disconnected, Dwight could hear him mutter the word “Idjit.”

Dean took his phone back. “So, can we do our job now?”

Dwight recollected his dignity and opened the door, leading them inside. He did not let them into the Office because they had intimidated him into it, please. But they had a particular skillset that Dwight himself did not possess. Of course, he knew a little plumbing, enough to operate the farm and fix the custom plumbing set up he installed into the outhouse. He and Moze figured out it was letting out upstream of the well. He would use these plumbers to learn more about the enemy terrorizing the office and stop him, or her.

“Sorry!” a familiar voice came from the crowd of employees. Sam locked eyes with Pam as he followed Dean across the room. She finally forced herself to look away, and bit her lips between her teeth to keep herself from smiling.

“No, I don’t know him.” Pam admits. “Not really. Um, Jim and I had a … had to call a plumber, like a month ago, and he fixed my pipes. Our pipes. That’s not an innuendo, or anything, that’s just, you know, what happened.” she nodded her head.

“Why are there cameras here?” Dean asked Dwight.

“Security.” Dwight responded. “Also, we are being filmed for a documentary, just ignore them, they’re not interested in you anyway. Your concern is the bathroom. There she is. I will set up right at the kitchen table here to keep an eye on your progress.”

Sam’s eyes were drawn to the top of the fridge, where there was even more ectoplasm than he saw on the video earlier. He made sure not to stare too long. Dean’s attention was captured by a dark haired short woman who walked in. She smirked at him from the corner of her eye for just a second, and seemed to slow her pace while she passed them.

“Excuse us.” she said with sultry lilt.

Dean nudged Sam’s side as she walked away, and only then noticed the lanky red-haired woman who followed her. When the door closed, Sam looked at the bathroom signs.

“Why are the doors missing?” He asked.

“Security.”

“And the documentary?” Dean joked under his breath.

“What was that?” Dwight perked up.

“Nothing. Come on, Sam.”

The first section of the women’s bathroom was painted a soft pink and furnished with a lovely couch. There was no visible water damage anywhere. Sam’s mind was trying to formulate a plan about how he could get a better look at the vent above the fridge with Dwight sitting at the table right in front of it.

“Ectoplasm is worse. I saw it on the way in.” He whispered to Dean. “We need to find a way to check it out.”

Dean flicked the light switch, but they didn’t turn on. Sam went ahead to the stalls and pushed the first door open. The toilets didn’t have tanks, they were attached thru the wall. He checked the other two and found nothing suspicious.

Meanwhile, Dean set his bag down out of the doorway’s line of sight and fished for the EMF detector. The crackles and pops that came from it echoed in the acoustics much louder than he anticipated. Sam gave him a desperate look, gesturing towards the kitchen, and Dean shut it off with a click.

“This is bad, Sammy.” Dean said.

“Think he’ll believe me if I tell him I have to climb through the vent to access the pipes?”

“Forget the pipes, we need to get these people out of here.”

A heavy, thick splat punctuated Dean’s words and drew both of their attention to the sink. Black goo stained the white porcelain.

Someone was coming. Dean shoved the device in his bag and moved in front of the sink.

“Hello – wow. Okay. Well, I am Michael Scott, the manager. Did Dwight get you all set up for in here?”

“Yeah, we’re all set here.” Sam nodded, offering a polite smile.

“What’s the problem, do you think?”

“Haven’t had much time to really look around yet.” Dean said.

“Right, right, okay.” Michael nodded. “Well, if you need anything just come to me. I am very familiar with this bathroom and everything in it, and even who uses it. Can hook you up.” He added that last sentence in a low voice and leaned in towards them. “No, I’m just kidding.” He said into a nearby camera lense.

“Okay, great.” Sam nodded again.

“Great!” Michael repeated, and then, once he realized it was time for him to leave, he turned and exited the bathroom. Dwight was waiting for him just outside the door, his ear against the doorframe. When Michael passed him, he stood up straight.

“I have put together the buddy system. You are with me and Ryan.”

“That’s a group of three.”

Michael let out an exasperated sigh. “Oh my god, I know, Dwight! Get Erin and go back to your desks.”

“I need to work in here so I can keep an eye on the plumbers.”

“What? No, we all need to be together so we can keep an eye on each other! Otherwise the buddy system doesn’t work.”

“What about the people in the annex?”

“Shhoooooot.” Michael puckered his lips and shook his head. “They’ll have to set up in the conference room. Help them out. Except Toby.”

Dwight burst into the annex. “Excuse me, orders directly from Michael. For the safety of everyone, the following people are to set up a temporary work space in the conference room right now: Kelly and Ryan. Erin, you are to return to your desk immediately.”

“Of course.” Erin passed a thick book she had been holding to Kelly, who quickly covered it in a stack of papers.

When Dwight returned to the kitchen, the tall plumber was unscrewing the vent above the fridge.

“Excuse me, what are you doing?” Dwight sounded annoyed. “The bathroom is on the other wall.”

“I have to access the pipes in the wall.” Sam said, hoping down, hoping to avert Dwight’s attention before he could see. He greatly underestimated Dwight’s powers of observation.

Dwight’s eyes went wide in horror, his mouth agape. “BLACK MOLD!” He yelled. “EVERYONE OUT! RIGHT NOW!”

“Calm down,” Sam blocked him from going into the office.

“Black mold is the deadliest of all mold. I will not calm down while myself and my coworkers are exposed to this biohazard. Get out of my way.”

“It’s not black mold.” Sam held his hands up.

“Have you even gone in the bathroom yet?” Kelly said as she came back into the kitchen, carrying a stack of documents. Her dark eyes were firmly glued to Dean.

“Leave them to their work, Kelly.” Ryan said defensively from behind her. As they approached them again, Ryan looked away and just fell in line behind Kelly, blocking Dean’s line of sight as they went back into the Office.

“Hi.” Erin beamed at them.

“What is it, then?” Dwight asked.

Sam stared at Dwight, doing his best to keep his face void from emotion, but he knew he wasn’t any good at it.

“Printer ink.” Dean said from the doorway. “It doesn’t matter. But we do need to get in those vents, so, stop holding him up.”

“How would printer ink get in…?” A light went off in Dwight’s face. Jim. It was a prank of some kind. This was hardly the time to be pulling pranks, but, Jim was always pulling pranks at inopportune times, so, he shouldn’t be surprised. What made the prank even more infuriating was the wastefulness. Printer ink is expensive.

Without a word, Dwight stormed to Jim’s desk.


	3. Chapter 3

Now that they were alone in the kitchen, Dean turned on Sam. “Why didn’t you just let him tell them it was black mold? That was a perfect opportunity to get everyone out!”

Sam was already back to unscrewing the vent. “He would have kicked us out, too, and probably called someone to take care of it. We’re _plumbers_ , remember?”

Dean shifted around uncomfortably and caught a camera staring at them from the main office. He immediately turned his back to it. The vent made a creak when Sam finally yanked it off the wall. Strings of black ectoplasm pulled out with it.

“Oh, crap.” Dean muttered.

The kitchen door opened slowly, and the brothers both turned and saw a familiar face enter.

“Hey...” Pam awkwardly crossed her arms over her chest. She approached slowly, being unsure if Dean recognized her. She smiled at him, waiting for some flicker of familiarity. It came in the form of a tight smile and a quick glance back over his shoulder at Sam.

“Cameras?” Dean cut right to the chase.

“I sent them away. What are you guys doing here?”

“It’s bad.” Sam said. “This place is oozing in ectoplasm. You’ve got one pissed off spirit.”

Dean opened his mouth to speak, but Pam spoke first.

“What do you need me to do?”

Dean lifted a finger to attempt to answer, but Sam cut him off.

“You all need to get out of here.”

Pam made a face. “Our corporate office is making us stay. I don’t know how to convince Michael.”

Dean’s face twisted into a scowl. “Is your job worth your life?”

“You need to find a way.” Sam held her gaze while he spoke in that pained, puppy-dog way of his. Just from that look, Pam knew the stakes were high.

“I’m going to get my bag from the car, then.” Dean started walking away. “Also-”

“Salt.” Sam blurted, still not paying Dean any mind. “Get all the salt you can find.”

Pam beamed at him. “Right. I remember that.” she shrugged and put on a dorky smile. “I keep some packets of it at my desk for times just like this.” Behind her, Dean had rolled his eyes and left.

Sam laughed and shook his head, but the grin faded when he saw the ectoplasm again.

“Will you watch the door? Just let me know if someone’s coming so I can see how far back this goes? It’ll take two seconds.”

“Sure!” Pam said. She grabbed a mug off the counter and mocked like she was drinking out of it, standing in front of Sam to block him from view.

 

* * *

 

“I don’t know what you’re planning, but it ends now. This is not the time for your pathetic attempts at humor and attention. People are dying.” Dwight stared down at Jim so intensely his glasses began sliding off his nose.

“What are you talking about?” Jim asked.

“The printer ink in the vents. Really, Jim? Do you even know how expensive printer ink is?”

Jim glanced around. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“That was me.” Creed said.

Dwight’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Very well.” Dwight said. “The cost will come out of your paycheck.”

 

“Creed has used printer ink inappropriately in the past. But I think he’s really just covering for Jim. I’ll let him believe I believe him for now.” Dwight privately reveals.

 

One of the plumbers, the shorter one, came out of the kitchen rolling his eyes. Dwight spotted him immediately. Jim leaned forward, hadn’t Pam just gone in there? But the angle of his desk didn’t let him see much of the inside.

 

“Plumber! Why are you not in the bathroom?” Dwight demanded from across the room.

 

“Need to get some tools from my car.” Dean said. “So I can do my job, that alright with you?”

 

“Hey I’ve got a pipe for you to fix.” Meredith said as Dean passed her desk. He spun around, grinning, and then kept walking after she winked at him.

 

Jim pulled a paper off his desk and made his way to the printer, trying to discretely look into the kitchen. Pam and the other plumber were laughing.

 

Dwight and Jim stand next to each other in the hallway in front of the documentary crew.

 

“No, I’ve never met either of these guys before.” Jim says to the documentary crew. His brow furrows. “Why?”

 

“No one cares.” Dwight interrupts him. “I don’t know many plumbers who drive _cars_. I’m launching a full investigation. I want you-” here, he points to one specific camera “- to follow them. Keep me informed of everything and anything that seems suspicious. And that doesn’t seem suspicious. Just tell me everything.”

 

“They don’t take orders from us.” Jim said to Dwight.

 

“This is a matter of security. If you do not obey me, you will be held responsible for any harm that befalls any employee of this office park.”

 

Jim’s eyebrows shoot up, but he has nothing to add.

 

* * *

 

Kelly walks out of the conference room, doing a slow glance over the office as she makes her way to Erin’s desk.

 

“Change of plans,” she sets a stack of papers on it. “Ryan’s out. That hot guy is in.”

 

“The moose, or-?”

 

“What? Oh, no, he’s cute though, do you want him?”

 

“Me?” She giggled and shook her head. “Oh, no, no I’m… just- OH! Right.” She giggled again, failing to be as quiet as she wanted to be. “Sure, why not.”

 

“After I get mine.” Kelly pushed the stack forward. “I made you one, so you can do it at your desk.”

 

“What’s his name?” Erin asked.

 

Jim walked in, and the girls stopped talking as he walked by and headed for the kitchen.

 

“I’ll text you. I’m about to go find out.” Kelly whispered. Without waiting for a response, she turned her gaze to the door she had seen Dean walk out of a few minutes ago and began strutting towards it.

 

“Does nobody understand what a buddy system is?” Michael cried from his office. “Erin! Go with her to make sure she’s not murdered!”

 

“Oh, right, of course!” Erin jumped up and ran to follow Kelly.

 

* * *

 

“Hey.” Jim smiled as he walked into the kitchen.

 

Sam was under the sink, checking those pipes for evidence of ectoplasm. Surprisingly, there was none.

 

“Hey, how’s it going out there?” She asked.

 

“Thought the problem was in the bathroom?” Jim asked.

 

“Oh.” Pam nervously glanced down at Sam’s torso sticking out of the cabinet. “Um...” She wasn’t sure what to say.

 

Sam jumped, and a delicate clink came from the pipes. Sam had just detached a part of it and something small and shiny fell out. He strained to feel for where it landed next to his face.

 

“Seems the problem is more wide spread than you thought.” Sam offered.

 

“Do you two know each other?” Jim asked, cutting right to the heart of it.

 

“Yeah,” Pam’s voice was strained. “But it’s complicated.”

 

Finally, Sam grabbed the thing, and was relieved to find out it wasn’t something far more sinister. A glistening engagement ring popped out, between Jim and Pam, held between Sam’s black-stained fingers.

 

“Someone drop this?” He asked.

 

Jim stared at it with raised eyebrows. Pam’s mouth fell open.

 

“Kinda shiny for being stuck in a faucet.” Jim muttered.

 

“It’s not like that.” Pam said.

 

“It’s not.” Sam confirmed, then began sliding out.

 

“You know, the more you dance around it the more it kinda seems like it is, so...”

 

“Hey, buddy, I got a job-” Sam started, but Pam grabbed his arm to silence him.

 

“Stop.” She said, then immediately let go and looked at Jim. “Do you remember when I worked at the Banshee club when I was twenty-two? Like, first story I told you on our first date?”

 

Jim seemed to have no recollection.

 

“The man in black?” She pressed.

 

Jim glanced at Sam, then back at Pam. Sam was just an inch taller than him, and Jim didn’t much like Pam standing next to him… and then it dawned on him. Jim smiled immediately and looked back at the wonderful, dorky woman of his dreams.

 

“He’s your dreamy ghostbuster?”

 

Pam’s face turned a little pink and moved next to him. “You thought I was making it up.”

 

“Still do.” Jim nodded through the smile. “But thanks for telling me.”

 

“Dwight’s making it difficult for them to hunt it down.”

 

“Hunt what down?”

 

“The ghost!” Pam strained to keep her voice low.

 

“There’s a ghost?”

 

“Yes, that’s-” Sam started, but Pam shushed him again.

 

“Jim,” she stepped close and held his hands. “I just need you to trust me on this one.”

 

“I can show him the ectoplasm.” Sam offered.

 

“You mean the printer ink?” Jim recalled Dwight’s nonsensical confrontation from earlier.

 

“Ectoplasm. It’s left by really angry spirits. Dean told that guy it was printer ink because he caught us off guard. Above the fridge.”

 

Jim looked and noticed immediately. It was far too thick to be ink, and ink had a certain shine to it that this material lacked. Dwight must not have gotten a very good look at it.

 

“Alright, I’ll keep Dwight busy. But come on, I think he’s got this.”

 

“Yeah,” Sam nodded. “Just waiting on Dean to come back from the car. Do you think you can get everyone out of here?”

 

“Wait, Dean’s at the car? Where’s Dwight?” Pam’s voice went up in that almost-shrilly tone.

 

“What’s in the car?”

 

“Ghost-busting tools.” Sam answered.

 

“Weapons!” Pam stared wide-eyed at Jim.

 

* * *

  

Outside, Dean walked around to the back of the building where he parked his baby. The black Impala sat like a resting black cat in the shadows, and Dean couldn’t help but smile as he approached. Even in dire situations, his baby was beautiful. He took one last look over his shoulder before popping the trunk open.

 

Inside under the false bottom were all of the collected tools of his trade. Shot guns filled with rock salt, daggers made from all varieties of material, from metal to bone, crosses, stakes, rosaries, holy books and, of course, more guns. The white sigil of protection painted under the hood kept it all safe from the curious hands of the creatures he hunted, but not from the apprehensive eyes of Dwight, who was staring down from the roof. Binoculars pressed against his glasses.

 

Dean loaded the shotguns and grabbed the extra box of salt. He had really hoped to get more information about the ghost, but supposed it didn’t matter. Together with Sam, a hundred or so ghosts had bitten the dust with just the salt and fire method. It was the bones, finding the bones is where the trouble happens. Dean only regretted not bringing the guns with him inside the first time, but the security cop outside had spooked Sam into being cautious.

 

When he turned around, a madman on the roof was flailing his arms. His face was pink, mouth gaped wide open. Dean ought to have been able to hear what he was saying, but couldn’t. A second man came up and from this distance even Dean recognized it as that manager, Michael. The two grew more frantic. Dean slammed the trunk of his car and ran.

 

The side door he had come out of was locked. He ran around to the front, where the security guard stood waiting. Behind him, Kelly was pounding her fists against the glass silently.

 

“Need to check your bag, sir-” the guard said, but Dean wasn’t listening.

 

“What’s her problem?” Dean asked, knowing he couldn’t just whip out a shotgun and blow the glass out of the door. Not while the cop was standing there, anyway.

 

“She’s dramatic.” The cop said and calmly walked to the door. He touched the handle but the door wouldn’t budge. Kelly glared at him from the other side of the glass when he told her to unlock the door.

 

“You think I didn’t try that already?” she mouthed with a sassy head bob.

“Shoot the glass.” Dean suggested.

 

The lights inside began to flicker. Kelly’s eyes went wide and she flailed her arms, scared.

 

“DO SOMETHING!” She screamed, but they couldn’t hear her. A ding from the elevator rang through the lobby and all the lights went out.

 

“I’m calling for backup.” The cop said and then bolted. Dean watched him run off, and only when he was certain the cop wasn’t going to turn back around, he pulled out his shotgun, waved a hand at Kelly to get out of the way, took aim and shot the door.

 

“You okay? What happened?” He asked.

 

“So first, the power went out when I got off of the elevator-”

 

A second ding from the elevator cut her off. Dean stepped in front of her and loaded the shotgun as the doors parted. Kelly’s mouth fell open. A petal-covered stretch of carpet appeared, dimly lit and swallowed by shadow.

 

“Oh, my god.” She muttered. It was an aisle.

 

“Let’s take the stairs.” Dean suggested, trying the door. It was locked. While he backed up to kick it down, a cloud of darkness swirled in the elevator into a silhouette. Kelley screamed, and Dean spun around to look just in time.

 

Before he blasted it away, Dean noticed something eerily familiar about the shape of the ghost. Man, it was definitely the stature of a man. It didn’t matter, really, a ghost is a ghost and all of them need to be taken care of. He shook off the shiver from his spine and gave the door to the stairs one last kick.

 

“Come on, let’s go!” He started up the stairs.


End file.
